


Sworn to the Realm

by TeamGwenee



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (And to fight White Walkers), F/M, Jaime just wants Brienne, Post-season 7, Sansa wants Jaime's help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 20:36:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18199022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamGwenee/pseuds/TeamGwenee
Summary: Jaime meets with Sansa and makes his loyalties perfectly clear.





	Sworn to the Realm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DanyelN](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanyelN/gifts).



His time with Brienne, his suffering, his losses, his humiliation and rebirth, had left him a changed man. Those sleepless nights in the Riverlands, spent cursing the burning shadow of his right hand as the poison in his blood had him sitting and vomiting himself, with poor Brienne cleaning him up at both ends. He had been in hell, and only Brienne helped him emerge. He could not fail to change after living through that, and change he did. He once more became a man determined to live up to his knightly values, to protect and defend. 

He became a man worthy of serving Sansa Stark.  

Brienne had spoken at length about Ser Jaime’s honour, his courage and loyalty, but Sansa had never believed it. Not until he arrived North, road worn and an army collected from the Riverlands at his back, perfectly placed to keep the vow he made Sansa’s mother.  

Brienne had been surprised when Sansa ordered her to bring Jaime before her, and not a little nervous. She had tried to question Sansa’s motives, delaying in fulfilling a task the simplest page could fulfil. She was nervous that with Lord Tyrion away on diplomatic business, and without his brother’s influence with Queen Daenerys, someone would take the chance to seek vengeance against the Kingslayer.  

Sansa had heard rumours of an attachment between the pair, but thought little of them. If Brienne had been the type to wed, it would surely have been to a man like Tormund. Rough and coarse and uncaring of the niceties of court. And even if Brienne did have a fondness for the Kingslayer, she had to be aware that it would come to nothing. Sansa couldn’t even entertain that Jaime Lannister would even think of Sansa’s guard in such a light.  

Besides, by all accounts Brienne had to nurse the Kingslayer through the most gruelling and revolting stage of his sickness upon losing his hand. It was a miracle they could stand to look at each other after that.  

Before Ser Jaime arrived, Sansa made sure to don a particularly becoming black gown, and lit the candles in her solar just so in order to show the flame red of her hair to perfection. She had spent too long in court to not be aware of the importance of appearances. She needed to walk the line of strong, but vulnerable. Modest, but regal. Ser Jaime needed to look at her and think, here is a woman he could trust. Here is a woman he would want to love. 

Sansa had no intention of giving him that love, but just the mere hope could make all the difference. 

Brienne arrived with the night, their faces frowning in confusion. Sansa dismissed Brienne with a curt nod and turned to Jaime, her face carefully cold and nonchalant. 

“Lady Sansa.” Ser Jaime bowed as the door was shut, leaving them cloistered in the candlelit room together. Sansa stood, making note of in the mirror behind Jaime how the fire in her hair danced in the candlelight, her eyes blue and bright against her pale skin.  

“Ser Jaime.” She nodded her head, addressing him as something other than Kingslayer for the first time, causing him to widen his eyes.  

He truly was a handsome man. Warm green eyes, golden hair streaked with silver. Tall with a sharp jaw. He would look well at Sansa’s side. 

“I heard you fought against Queen Daenerys,” Sansa begun, catching Ser Jaime off guard. 

“There was not much of a fight,” Jaime admitted.  

“But you saw the destruction those beasts of hers caused.” 

“I did,” Jaime said, a thin line appearing between his eyes as skin near turned grey. Sansa nearly smiled at the fear painted across Ser Jaime’s face at the memory. She had watched him in the Great Hall, she had seen the wariness and fear and anger that alighted his face each time he saw the Dragon Queen.  

“You understand the threat Queen Daenerys poses to our kingdom,” Sansa surmised. 

Jaime remained silent, cautiously waiting for Sansa to make her point. He was cold, guarded. Sansa allowed herself a moment of kindness. She moved towards him and placed a hand upon his arm. 

“We too have suffered so greatly,” she murmured softly. “We have both lost so much.” 

Ser Jaime carefully removed Sansa’s hand from his arm. “My lady-” he began. 

“I need you to vow, on your honour as a knight, that if it comes to war between House Stark and the Targaryen, you will stand beside us.” 

Jaime’s eyebrows shot up. “I was not aware my honour meant anything to you.” 

“Brienne has assured me you can be trusted. Bend the knee, pledge yourself to my cause and I will trust you,” Sansa assured him gently. 

“As desperately I crave your trust, my lady,” Jaime said dryly, “I am afraid I must decline your offer.” 

Sansa felt her confidence drain away like water through her fingers. “Why not?”  

“Because I have already made too many promises it has broken me to keep. I prefer not to take that risk by making any more promises too rashly.” 

“It is not rash. Surely you must see, that Queen Daenerys cannot continue in her conquest unchallenged,” Sansa insisted.  “She insists on claiming my kingdom as her own. Thousands have died for the North’s independence-” 

“And thousands more will die if you try to fight against her now. Either the White Walkers will destroy you, or she will burn your country to ashes,” Jaime snapped.  

“The North deserves its independence!” Sansa snapped. 

“I’m sure it does,” Jaime conceded. “But considering two powers with fair greater armies and dragons on their side seek to claim the North as their own, that seems unlikely. If you were to take my advice, content yourself with the queen who does not seek to turn you into an army of the undead, and suck it up.” 

Sansa recoiled as though he had slapped her with his infamous golden hand. 

“You think I should demean myself before that arrogant, entitled foreigner?” Sansa hissed. 

“I do, and the rest of your kingdom behind you,” Jaime confirmed. 

“Do you care nothing for my country’s freedom?” Sansa demanded. 

Sharp amusement lit up within his eyes. “I didn’t care when I fought in battle against it, I don’t care now. All I care about is not seeing its people, and the rest of the realm, turned into walking corpses.” 

“What of your vow to my mother?” Sansa asked desperately. “What of that?” 

“Your mother asked only to return you to her upon my release. With your mother dead, I aided Brienne to protect you. Never was I asked to fight for your land and I have no intention to. If I intend to protect you as Brienne swore to do, then I advise you not to pick fights with someone bigger than you because she took your castle,” Jaime said simply. “Especially when she may be all that stands between yourself and the Night King.” 

“Then what are you doing here?” Sansa asked. 

“I am here to fight the White Walkers, and nothing more. Be rest assured Lady Stark, you had _nothing_ to do with it. Just as I wish to have nothing to do with your feud with the Dragon Queen.” 

Sansa’s cheeks blazed with a fury to match her hair. “And once the White Walkers are destroyed, what then? Do you truly believe that the realm will be safe and prosperous beneath Queen Daenerys? You truly think that a Queen armed with dragons and savages will bring this kingdom peace?” 

“No,” Jaime admitted lightly, “But then picking a fight with said Queen is probably a worse way to go.” 

“It may be brutal,” Sansa conceded, “I care little for it. But I must do what is best for my people. But if we unite,” Sansa said, grasping at Jaime’s dislike for Queen Daenerys, “Our armies and lands together. One more war could-” 

“One more war?” Jaime repeated incredulously, laughter bubbling his lips. “My lady, it has been ‘one more war’ since I was fourteen years old, since man first learned to pick up a stick. It never is.” 

“So that is it. Once the Night King is defeated you will leave the kingdom to its fate?” Sansa said. 

“I will act according to my conscience,” Jaime corrected her. “If one day Queen Daenerys causes so much horror that it would be worth the bloodshed, then I will raise my arms. When there is an option that does not end in grief and untold destruction. If I see a chance for peace, I will take it. Just as is I did, when I slayed Aerys. Whether that is standing beside Queen Daenerys, or against her, remains to be seen. And now my lady.” He bowed, so low that it could only be mocking, and moved towards the door. “I take my leave of you.” 

He turned his back and left, to find Brienne pacing in the hallway outside. 

“What did she want?” she asked before Jaime had a chance to open his mouth.  

Jaime jerked his head down the hall and began walking, Brienne in step beside him.  

“She wants me to stand beside her when she moves against Queen Daenerys,” Jaime informed her swiftly, his breath hot on her neck as he whispered into her ear. 

Brienne grimaced, her pale face near grey. “I feared something like that. Will she hold back until the White Walkers are destroyed?” 

“I hope so, but I cannot be sure,” Jaime admitted ruefully. 

Brienne stilled, closing her eyes and resting her head against the stone-grey wall. “I will keep watch over her,” Brienne said at last. “I promised Lady Catelyn I will protect her, even if that is from herself.”   
 

“Has Lady Arya spoken to you of the Dragon Queen?” Jaime asked Brienne. 

“She is far from delighted, but she is willing to focus on the White Walkers for now. I will let her know Sansa is feeling some doubts, but if Sansa shows any sign of plotting against Lord Snow, I dread to think what Arya might do.”  

Jaime looked at the weariness in Brienne’s eyes and she battled over how best to protect her charges. Even as she warred within herself, from the resignation on her face Jaime could tell she had already made up her mind to place the realm over her vows, just as he had done all those years ago. 

“Did she ask anything else of you?” Brienne asked at last. 

“Nothing more,” Jaime assured her. “She wanted an alliance, but did not suggest we bind it by marriage.” He lifted Brienne’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “We can keep it a secret a little longer. Just until Tyrion returns, so he can be with us.” 

A smile slid over Brienne’s face at the thought. “And then we will be wed,” she said softly. 

“Yes,” Jaime agreed, moving forward to press his lips against her. “And then we will be wed.” 

 


End file.
